Uninvited guest
by lil-alfeegi-clone
Summary: AU: Sanji has a beautiful home, make that, 'had' a beautiful home. His new houseguest is causing problems, and the last thing he needs is for his old man to find out...A little UsoppKaya maybe, but mainly a nakamaship,
1. Humble Abode

Rating: Pg-13 (language)

Just in case you missed it the first time! This rating may change in future chapters, with each chapter recieving an appropriate warning.

Pairing: As of yet undecided - you can suggest whichever takes your fancy, but it really depends on how the story develops.

Warning: This is an AU, now usually they are iffy things to read, so please give this one a chance, I'm going to keep the characters as IC as possible because if they're too OOC then they aren't really the characters they're supposed to be in the first place. if I go a little off I apologise, but I'm happy for you all to tell me so I can improve the story.

Feedback - be nice peeps! I love a good constructive criticism anyday, but anything negative/flamey will be ignored.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece in either is Anime or its written form. One Piece and all it's characters belong to Eiichiro Oda.

(I own the cat, because the cat is mine 3 )

* * *

Humble Abode

It was tasteful, the place he called home.

It was large enough for a family, despite only housing one man. It had a spacious kitchen, which was of paramount importance to the man who owned it. It contained every item anyone could possibly require in the kitchen, and some of this equipment the young chef had not even used himself, in spite of having owned the little place for several years since leaving university.

Despite this, he still found joy in finding his home clean and welcoming. He made sure the house had at least one good clean a week, making sure the dusting was done, each nook and cranny was hoovered and that everything was in it's rightful place, be it in a drawer, on a table or simply shelved.

He was proud of his house…

It also had a beautiful en-suite bathroom with stunning white tiles with tiny painted leaves on them. It was ivy, or so his friend had told him when he had finished the last tile and fastened the pot. His dark haired old college friend had taken up the arts, and had become a successful interior decorator, known to have brought his colourful designs to life in the home of even Mayor Iceberg himself.

He had proudly shown off his décor to his visitors, and then had them ask him for said 'artists' contact number. He should have charged Usopp for all the commissions he'd received that way.

There was also the master bedroom, which was unlike the rest of the house in how it was sparse. It was quite a dark room, with the walls being painted a rich deep blue and his curtains a beautiful shade of sapphire. He was particularly fond of the soft, thick cobalt carpet. The blonde was always impressed with how the softness between his toes remained buoyant and supple.

Although the young man was known to have several callers, not one of them had seen this room. This single chamber that was solely his own in that it was the one place that exclusively belonged to Sanji; it was the most private place in his life, completely untouched by the world.

In contrast to this room the rest of his home was open, and he had no objections at all to any of his friends and visitors poking about or looking a little more closely than was polite. He was a patient man, as long as shoes were taken off at the front door and crumbs weren't left in places where crumbs should not belong.

There was the living room and dining room – separated of course, one could not entertain ones friends if they were too busy watching the television. Both had the same cream colour-scheme to them and he found that it was a very forgiving tone that went well with almost everything. Especially his chocolate coloured coffee table. The old man hadn't agreed on that one, and even gone as far as to get him an unpleasant house-warming gift as some form of revenge for the table he had so vehemently objected to.

The item in question had been a money box. A china duck with a crude curled eyebrow drawn above its right eye. The tiny feathers were speckled with miniscule brown spots, and its feathers were a garish shade of sunshine yellow.

He knew it was a light-hearted jab at his appearance, and he noted with some amusement that the following gift he received from his co-workers in honour of his new abode was another poultry figurine with a ridiculously large yellow moustache. It had been crudely attached to the birds upper beak with duct-tape, a joke in itself that had not been lost on the cook, and reminded him strongly of his old man.

The two ducks now sat side by side in the centre of the offending coffee table, a keepsake of the bond and debt he owed the older chef; his father in all but blood.

The spare room was sparsely decorated, though the décor was welcoming; a comfortable and private place for any visitor and was, as always, the bed he chose when courting a young lady whenever he saw fit. The sanctuary of his bedroom never violated by such fleeting romances, instead these passing flings were confined here.

As such, Sanji endeavoured to keep his personal castle clean and free from all things he would consider a threat to his furniture. However, the frequent and often unannounced calls from some of his more…colourful acquaintances, often left his pristine quarters in disarray, and left the wellbeing of his furnishings questionable.

It was a different acquaintance; however, that was leaving his neat and tidy abode in a state of disorder. He wasn't pleased about it, but was acutely aware of the fact that it was entirely his own fault for inviting the creature in, in the first place.

That 'poor' creature…he had found it on his way walking back from work once. It had just stopped raining, which had only added to the pathetic appearance of the feline as it mewed at him pitifully as he passed by the bus-stop. In a rare moment of pity for an animal he would usually have believed would make a better entrée than a pet, he decided to take it home.

He knew he should have just dried it off, fed it and then kicked it out. But he didn't. And now all he could find over every squashy and comfy surface in his household was cat fluff. And what was worse was that the colour of the blasted animal clashed horribly with the colour schemes of the house.

Well, actually they didn't. But they were very obvious and clung stubbornly to his trousers, which meant he had to clean them off with a clothes brush before he went to work. This, in turn, meant he had to wake up earlier; another thing to add to the list of what annoyed him about his unwelcome guest.

He still couldn't get over the fact that the animal was green. Despite his misgivings about both having it in his house and letting it _stay_ in his house, he thought it was...cute. For a grass-green cat.

A fat, grass-green cat.

The blasted ball of fluff was currently using his bed as its own personal futon and causing him great vexation. He didn't know how it had gotten in there; into his locked bedroom, but what he did know was that it had been in his house-hold, _uninvited_, long past its welcome.

He had always believed that the only living thing to enter his sanctuary would be the one true love of his life. This would obviously be a beautiful, no, stunning woman who was not only gorgeous on the outside but angelic…saintly inside. But no, this feline, this non-human-and-certainly-not-ideal-woman, had breached the sanctity of his personal domicile and he was not amused.

He constantly poked it, trying to channel his annoyance into its being, hoping that with a distinct display of irritation the thing would just take the hint and leave. All it did was shed all over his clean house. And now it was shedding green fluff all over his freshly changed sheets.

He knew that _it_ knew the sheets were clean. It was just that the creature currently curled up on _his_ mattress, snuggled in _his_ favorite quilt cover didn't seem to give a damn. He growled. The uninvited guest yawned widely, displaying an impressive set of rather sharp canines and equally evil-looking incisors.

Sanji swore it was mocking him. Not just with its presence, but with its actions, or rather...inactions. All the animal did was sleep. And crap on his ferns.

Bastard.

He hated it. His ferns had died, his fish had mysteriously disappeared and he had suddenly acquired tinned pet food to keep it away from his meals.

Once the invader had the audacity to launch itself onto the table, devour both his bacon and his hash brown and leave all in the space of under a minute. He had never seen it move that fast. Ever. He was so shocked that he had only reacted after it had returned to polish off his sausage, then he had screamed at the green flash as it had returned, low and behold, to his bed.

Bloody whiskered monstrosity.

His alarm clock went off, ringing incessantly, reminding him that it was time for work. It blinked apologetically as he tapped it off, glancing at the floresent glow of 6:30am saluting him. He sighed, picking up his uniform and making his way out of the room, glancing back at the bed-thief before trotting down the stairs.


	2. Refined Restaurant

The walk to the Restaurant was a short one, only made longer by the company he had sometimes the misfortune to acquire, namely his two fellow chefs - though he was reluctant to call them 'chefs' - Patty and Carne. They often joined him just after he had passed the bus-stop, and on a few occasions had the audacity to turn up on his doorstep to 'escort the fair prince to his castle'.

Sanji knew that the rivalry between them would keep them from ever truly being comfortable with each other, but at the same time regarded it as an unusual form of family.

Wasn't it once said that you can choose your friends but not your family?

The blonde often caught himself regarding the two older, and his opinion far less talented, chefs as eccentric uncles, who had an insane passion for experimentation with desserts and aperitifs. He'd never try Carne's soup ever again, nor would he be coerced into sampling one of Patty's mystery puddings…at least not until he'd taken out full health cover with a private doctor (something he'd already had the foresight to do).

He passed the bus-stop, pausing briefly to wonder whether he had misplaced his sanity here when he picked up his freeloading fur ball. It was nothing special, just an average bus-stop with a chair that was ever-so-slightly too high to sit comfortably on and a shelter that had more holes in it than Swiss cheese, not to mention the bus schedule that was eternally incorrect. He was about to bend over and really scrutinise the area where his common-sense had availed him when the two chefs that had been on his mind appeared, ironically right on schedule.

"Mornin' Blondie!" came the traditional greeting.

_Someone was in a good mood _Sanji snorted.

Patty, the man who had hailed him, grabbed him by the arm and pointed up the road. A sad looking oak tree's leaves shivered in the breeze and a squirrel twittered it's puzzlement at the men approaching its home.

"Walk any slower and you'll be going backwards boy! Zeff hates lazy employees!" He grinned. Sanji winced as he got an unwanted close-up of Patty's teeth, and wondered if they had dental. He certainly hoped so, at least, for Patty's sake. Once again he mentally patted himself on the back for getting full health cover (his doctor had pointed him in the direction of a marvellous dentist earlier that week). He started walking again, brushing off the examination of the scene for another more appropriate time.

"Oi, How's your _friend_?" Carne whispered over his shoulder. The younger man cringed but gave a reply, careful to avoid treading on his 'unlces' toes as he continued walking.

"The unwelcome guest is still unwelcome, but if you say a word about it to the old man I'll kill you and hide your body in the next Sunday Stew Special." He hissed. The two just laughed and jostled him up to the back door, where they were greeted by, as usual, a small crowd of the other chefs of the Baratie and an unimpressed head chef. The proprietor glared down at the three and sneered, ignoring the rest in favour of the easiest victims.

"We're not late, in fact, we're earl-" A large wooden post plonked itself down on Sanji's little toe, both shutting him up and giving him an unflattering cross-eyed look. Were it that anyone could see his other eye then it probably would have been quite amusing to see, as it was, it looked as though he was trying to see where his left ear was, without much joy.

"Can it Egg-plant." Zeff growled, motioning for the three to enter. "We have a big order for this time next week, came in after last shift had finished."

Three pairs of proud shoulders slumped as they followed their boss into the kitchen and pooled around the central preparations counter. The other chefs slid in around them and swiftly made their way to their stations to begin the days tasks. Sanji, Patty and Carne looked at the large piece of paper pointedly and then back at Owner Zeff with questioning glances.

"Don't play stupid," he growled, "I want you," he pointed at the bearded man, "to get the tables shifted and the screens up. The heavy duty ones, see to it that you can't hear a gnat fart from the other side." Patty nodded, quickly pulled out his waiter's note book, jotted down Zeff's orders, then quickly made his way into the dining room to prepare for the morning shift.

"I always get all the donkey work." He grumbled, mostly to himself.

"That's because you're an Ass." Sanji called after him, the older man whipped around fists balled, red faced and ready to launch into verbal warfare before Zeff stamped once again on Sanji's toe and threatened Patty with the same unless he got the hell on with his job.

"You," he pointed at Carne who was unruffled by the outburst. "I want you to shift the tables and get the cutlery out, I want our finest silverware out, and the Doulton. Not our usual standard." Carne nodded and made his way out of the kitchen, only to be halted by a sharp question by the old man. "You do remember how to set out cutlery formally don't you?"

"Yes! Yes!" Carne spluttered, only to have a large manual thrown at him. He caught it and nodded his thanks sheepishly.

"Cock this up and I _will_ fire you. We have the Mayor coming to this and I want nothing done half-arsed or over done, you understand me? I want it perfect."

The inflection throughout the declaration indicated that it was a threat meant for both men, and the one outside who hadn't heard it. Carne would undoubtedly relay the message to his friend and both would do their best not to be themselves next week. No one dared question the reservation, regardless of the Baratie's policy that reservations were to be made at least five weeks in advance.

Zeff rounded on his apprentice and grinned in a way that could only be described as evil. Sanji knew that look. It was a look that said 'if you bugger this up, you won't have the luxury of being fired, no, you'll be relegated to minimum wage and potato peeling duty until retirement'. The younger blonde blinked. Zeff huffed.

"You'll start planning the entire meal out. Starters, main, deserts, sides, drinks, afterdinner mints, you name it I want it on the menu. This booking is how you're proving yourself to me. Get this right, and you keep your assistant head chef post. Perhaps something else…if you do well enough."

And with that the older blonde smirked, turned about, and hobbled his way into the next room to bellow at Patty for using the fine silverware for the breakfast tables when they should have been saved for the evening shift.

Sanji felt at odds, here he was, finally given a chance to prove that he was as good a chef as the man who had taught him, perhaps even better, and on the other foot he felt dread, there were so many guests, each with their own tastes and dislikes. That and what exactly did the old goat mean by 'something else'? Talk about trials and tribulations…

Sanji picked up the list his mentor had left on the counter and peered at the names. He tried to remember if any of them were regulars, which ones had preferences for particular dishes, who had allergies to certain substances. Images of the mayor inflating danced across his imagination. That certainly would guarantee him potato-duty for the rest of his life, which wasn't on his to-do list at that moment in time. He strode over to the stairs where he trotted up to the office and switched on the computer.

The outdated model practically wheezed before it cranked itself up enough to get the monitor to go an encouraging shade of blue. He tapped his nails against the screen as he waited for the machine to congregate itself into a semblance of working order, Sanji had a brief vision of an elderly hamster climbing onto a wheel, falling off, getting back on and slowly beginning to run.

Whilst he waited he took the time to really take a look at the room he had rarely been allowed in over the years.

Zeff had only allowed him access into his office a few years ago after he had won the national cooking competition. He had only just been old enough to compete and had gone for the chance immediately. The photograph of but one of his moments of glory was mounted on the bookshelf opposite, quite at home amongst the recipe books, loose paperwork that stuck out here and there and other tokens of both his and Zeff's achievements.

Admittedly his adoptive parent could be a bit stiff sometimes, but on that day, when he had won that prize...the old man had smiled, just for him. He had burst into tears on national television, all because the daft old bastard had gone sentimental for a split second. He would never live it down, and to be honest, he didn't really feel like he had to. Despite uncles' Patty and Carne ribbing him for it every time the competition rolled onto the competition circuit, the old man was no better in that respect either.

The computer beeped at him to inform him of its active state and displayed the old man's favorite screen-saver. The giant elephant tuna spread across the screen was a keen reminder of the future meals he had yet to prepare. Sanji stared at the beady eye of the fish on the computer screen before he opened up an old catalogue and then scrolled meticulously through it.

There were so many points to consider, that the mayor was allergic to nuts; his secretary lactose intolerant _and_ vegetarian, not to mention the Military Commander and his two grandsons were going to be present also, which meant he was going to have to seriously consider some heavy meat dishes. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temples and wondered again what exactly the old man was planning.

After a moment of reflection he leaned forward and typed up a brief list of the guests, what he knew vaguely they disliked, liked and avoided. There were fourteen in the party and of them he knew what one of them would definately like - he would add it to the menu sheerly from the knowledge that his college friend had loved it and would complain horribly were it not available.

He hurried on, slender fingers hammering out a seating plan, just a rough guide seeing as the guests would only seat themselves later on. He then took a moment to reflect on the many dishes he had prepared in his life, he leaned back in the comfortable old chair and closed his eyes. Scores, no, hundreds of dishes appeared before him, each one delectable in it's own right and each one vying for his attention.

Mentally he reached out, groping for a dish, only to realize that he needed to envision a recipient first. He dredged memories of the secretary to mind. A beautiful woman, slender, tall...he then remembered her sharp personality, unforgiving stare and equally cutting tongue. He recalled her preference for vegetarian meals, she had claimed a desire not to eat animals, being that she worked with them too often. She had also rudely pointed out her allergy and had verbally flayed him for serving her ice-cream. A mistake he would never make again. A main course suddenly flew to mind; Gazpacho. Perfect. It was as flavoursome as her character and, in particular it was cold, a part of her personality he found refreshingly challenging. Alternatives then quickly made themselves aware to him, flooding him with ideas that would perfectly suit the other guests.

The D family, notorious for their love of meat and their hereditary narcolepsy, were easy to think up meals for. Lamb and Gammon immediately sprang to mind, followed by alternatives such as haddock - he knew from previous experience that the older of the two grandson's had a taste for smoked meats and fish. He also remembered that the Naval commander...Hina? Yes, the tall, brisk woman who spoke in the third person. Perplexing, but he recalled she had a preference for nautical dishes, specifically subtly flavoured fish.

Who else was coming? Ah yes, the Military Commanders guest - Lord Mihawk. A refined man, mentioned frequently in the news...he had recently been publically acknowledged as the worlds greatest swordsman, regardless of already holding that position unofficially for years. He had no idea of what to serve the man but was sure he could come up with something after doing a little research.

And so he drifted off, desserts dancing across his mind.

Zeff stood at the door to the office and watched his apprentice as he went though the menu that was forming in his mind. The older man was still amazed at how quickly the young man could collate a menu that suited its clients so well. He shook his head and tapped a wooden limb against the floor lightly - effectively scratching the itch that he could not reach. The other blond didn't stir from his thoughts.

A slight toss of a blond head had signalled that the young man had compiled his mental inventory and was mentally processing the most fitting menu for his future clientele. Zeff grinned, he had learnt to read the other chef well in all of the years he had known him. After all, it had been he who had taught the boy how to remember each dish, note it's specific qualities and apply them appropriately to both the client and the time of year, not to mention accommodate the available fruit, vegetables and meats according to the season. He had adopted the young man years back, after deciding that due to his strenuous schedule that he had no time for courtship or producing an heir of his own.

It was by sheer chance that, at the time, the younger Zeff, had discovered the boy behind his restaurant, having made off with some of his more exotic spices. He smirked in recollection as he recalled how he had followed the boy back to his orphanage and slid into the kitchen to prepare a meal with said pilfered ingredients. He had been impressed by the young ones ability but had found that his skills were still raw and had absolved to take him in there and then, it just wouldn't do for what he considered to be a blossoming talent to go to waste.

The process itself had been longer and more difficult than it had needed to be but with the help of a few old friends he had obtained his prodigy and the future was then his to take control of.

The future had been unimaginably difficult and many times he had considered returning him, with a sharp kick and a few choice words. But with every disaster there had been a triumph. The boy had pulled through spectacularly and today he was to prove himself capable of taking the restaurant over completely. After all, Zeff didn't want to cook for everyone for ever. He wanted to retire and explore the rare dishes he had not been able to because of the constraints of the establishment that he owned and ran. Though he never regretted the time he invested in the restaurant that he had dubbed 'The Baratie', he did regret not spending his time on opportunities missed. Ah well, that was what the boy in front of him was for; to watch the place while he went off gallivanting around the world making interesting dishes out of squid-innards.

He smirked as he turned and left his adopted son to his own devices. There was the breakfast shift to do, and he wanted to make sure the two morons downstairs hadn't made a complete mess of his set menu..._again._


	3. Enter the Waiter

Here's the next chapter!

Sorry for the long wait, but I had writers block for a while and thought it best to wait for inspiration rather than spout crap : ) Just reckoned you folks would appreciate that. I'm also considering not having a pairing in this fic, considering that there are so many fics out there already that pair any of the characters up with somebody, and despite them being well written I think it would be refreshing to see a fic that doesn't revolve around the pairing thing, but rather on the day to day stuff that we seem to take for granted. Our strawhats endure enough adventure daily, I think they deserve a break ne?

Meh, I'm waffling now, and not the tasty breakfast treat-kind either.

I'd like to say thanks to my only reviewer - Rivermoore's Horse  
and also those who've put my story on their alert list, not to mention the lot of you who read but don't comment, you guy's appreciate fics too, in your own silent way! XD

Let's get on with it shall we?

* * *

When Sanji had finally decided that he could do no more to his current menu plan, he stood, stretched languidly and then saved all his work. After closing down the ancient machine he made his way downstairs.

The blonde grinned as he entered the staff room, plucked his apron from it's hook and pulled it on. He smoothed it down as he glanced at the other aprons hanging up. That was one of the perks of being the Assistant head chef he was able to wear his own professional uniform with his name emblazoned across it whereas the rest of the staff had to make do with mass produced uniforms. The apron he now had tied around his waist was merely for practical purposes, speaking of which, he should really get back to work.

Planning or not he still had to work his shift; it was a huge surprise that the old geezer had allowed him to spend the first two hours of his shift in agony over his menu and place settings. Any other time the old man would have screamed at him until he was blue in the face, which resulted in one of his even less appreciated nicknames – 'old-man-blowfish'.

Shifting over to his workstation among the other chefs, Sanji quickly began preparing ingredients, looking up he blinked, then he raised an eyebrow when one of the waiters slid in the back door in a poor imitation of a super-spy. He was even singing his own theme music.

The blonde was mildly impressed that the waiter was only an hour late for his shift, usually his talented friend was two hours late and he was usually caught by the boss.

"Good morning, oh culinary genius! It is I, The Greatest Waiter in the West!" Said 'greatest waiter' struck another pose, completing the dramatic stance with a spinning serving dish on his index finger.

Sanji paused briefly, by placing his large cutting knife down and humouring his friend with a small round of applause. The young man bowed and in doing so broke the charade as the serving platter hit the floor and rolled…

…

…right into the boss's feet.

The assistant head chef swiftly picked up his knife and began hacking away at a particularly stubborn piece of broccoli whilst the background noise of the restaurant was suddenly overcast by the yells and screams that always seemed to greet the waiter as he entered work.

"Usopp! This is the last straw! I pay you to be in here on time."

"Sorry, Zeff, um…sir, but I was-"

The other chefs ignored the commotion and continued with their duties.

"Five minutes I can deal with, but a whole damn hour? What's wrong with you boy?"

A spoon whizzed past Sanji's line of vision in the general direction of the back door and imbedded itself by its targets head. He scooped up his ingredients and added them to the pot of hot vegetable stock that was going to be that lunchtimes soup of the day and then went to wash his hands at the nearest sink.

"Ah, well, you see-"

Carne walked around the central island and put some large serving plates down. Another cook leaned over and passed him a huge pile of cut meat on a chopping board.

"Do it again and I'll fire you! Hear me boy?!?"

Usopp cringed but nodded meekly. Zeff glared at him.

"Yes sir."

Zeff abruptly turned on his single heel and stormed out of the first kitchen into the staff room. More yells were heard. Obviously the other waiters taking a sneaky-break had been caught.

Sanji dried off his hands on a paper towel and tossed it in the bin. He turned to Carne and leaned over, staring critically at the other man's handiwork.

The meat that had been arranged on the serving plates was haphazard and lacked aesthetic quality. At least that was what Sanji had thought internally before letting Carne know that he couldn't make a meal look pretty to save his life.

He turned his attention away from the platter in disgust and disappointment to distract himself with something more productive.

He pulled out two bowls and a few pieces of cutlery then moved over to the second largest fridge where all the seafood was kept separately. He pulled out a box of fresh king prawns, and closed the fridge behind him with his knee.

The box was placed gently on the counter and Sanji reached over and stole a bowl of skinned and chopped carrots from an inattentive co-worker as well as his unopened bottle of white wine. By the time the co-worker had bought his attention back to what he was doing Sanji was busily working away on the other side of the kitchen. He looked left and right, and started to search under his worktop baffled by the disappearance of his ingredients. The other cooks just smirked knowingly and got on with their jobs.

Sanji took a pot of Zeff's home made Thai red curry paste and spooned a liberal amount into the largest of his bowls and then opened the box of prawns. He pulled out the four sealed packets and opened them, pouring them into the second bowl one by one. He inspected each prawn carefully before washing them off and placing them into the bowl containing the paste. The prawns he had deemed unworthy had been put into a small plastic pot that he could take home for himself when his shift ended. After all, it wouldn't do to cast away such a delicacy.

He mixed the best prawns in with the paste, coating them all equally with it, then he cling filmed the entire bowl and placed it in the intermediate fridge with a label reading 'Sanji's, hands off crap cooks Patty and Carne!'

With that finished he went on to do something creative with the previously stolen ingredients; he drank the wine and ate the carrot slices.

Usopp sighed and shuffled off to the staff room to change into his uniform when he finally emerged he made a bee-line for his friend and then the dark haired waiter held out both of his arms and turned a circle.

"What do you think? Finest waiter in the restaurant or what?"

Sanji scractched his chin, finished off his slice of carrot and then reached forwards to adjust his tie. He then stepped back to scrutinise the waiter more thoroughly.

"I think the tie is the best dressed part of you. You make it yourself?"

Usopp grinned shyly and gently smoothed the tie down. The blonde's eyes widened.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You mean she-"

"-Miss kaya asked me out! I'm a taken man!"

He held up the tie, which had an amusing illustration on it with a rather fetching background.

"It was a gift."

"That's wonderful-"

"-GET OUT AND SERVE BOY!" Zeff bellowed into the kitchen and Usopp jumped up several feet, straightened his tie again hurriedly and then grabbed his notebook and pen bolting out of the kitchen into the dining room.

Sanji grinned, feeling both pleased and a little sad that yet another lady had left the market. Ah well, there were still plenty of fine wares to be found, he just had to keep an eye open.

"Don't stand there daydreaming egg-plant! Soup doesn't magically materialise! I wouldn't be surprised if it's boiled the flavour to buggery!"

He startled and returned to his soup, which was thankfully far from a tragic end, and stirred it around tenderly. _Good for Usopp._ Sanji thought happily as he placed the lid on the soup to simmer.

* * *

The next chapter is written but I need to beta it first. Coincidentally, anyone who spots grammatical/spelling etc. errors up in this chapter or previous ones, please say and I'll go back and correct it. Afterall, one can't catch all the mistakes, even if one trys :3


	4. The Regulars

A note of apology to my readers - in the last chapter I wrote about not having pairings and I ended up contradicting myself spectacularly by having Kaya/Usopp! XD

Anyways, here's the next chapter, and a big thank-you to Rivvy and Masaichu for their reviews and Rath141419, Rivvy, Sentra and SilverHowler for adding this to their story alerts. Hope this next chapter is up to your expectations!

P.s when you see Angel Hair Pasta1 it's not a typo - it's there for reference at the base of this chapter. Additionally I've attempted to make the recipe to make it easy to follow - so have a go at making it if you feel brave enough!

Chapter four

It was about three in the afternoon when his most cherished regular attended the restaurant.

She swept in with a gaggle of her friends and Usopp, under strict instruction from the youngest member of the management team, gave them the best seats in the house.

Usopp then hurried into the kitchen where Sanji wasn't anywhere to be seen, in a panic he dashed to into the bathroom and then straight up the stairs to the office. Zeff blinked at him from the desk and then threw a large book at him.

"Quit slacking damn kid! We've got a lot of guests now! Get serving!"

"Yes, oh yes! I'm very sorry Sir!" Usopp called behind him as he pelted down the steps muttering about how he wasn't paid enough for this crap and ran straight into the man he'd been searching for.

"Oi, oi! Watch it, I just tidied myself moron!" Sanji rearranged his mussed hair and straightened his uniform. "Where are the girls?"

"They're at the table you told me to place them a-"

"Splendid! Wait for me my darlings!" The blonde strode straight out of the hall and through the kitchen, pushing both doors open as he practically danced over to the corner table with the view and of course, the stunning panoramic window over-looking the gardens.

He bowed deeply as he admired them all.

"Ah Sanji! How wonderful to see you! I thought you'd be finished for the day today?" the young woman asked, smiling widely as Sanji simpered happily at her words.

"Oh lovely Princess Vivi, it's always a pleasure to see you!" He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. "And of course it's delightful to see you too, Miss Nojiko and…" Sanji paused and then smirked knowingly at the small blonde woman sitting between the two, "Lady Kaya! An absolute honour!"

Nojiko grinned and Kaya flushed.

"Mr.Blackleg, really! You're embarrassing our poor Kaya!" Nojiko smirked. "Look at her, she's gone all red!"

"Please Miss Nojiko, call me Sanj-"

Kaya squeaked as Nojiko pinched her cheek playfully. Vivi leaned over and batted the cerulean haired girls hand away.

"Stop teasing! You're always teasing her!" Vivi pouted crossly. Nojiko laughed and several guests could have sworn that the assistant head chef nearly died on the spot from happiness.

Usopp appeared next to Sanji and poked him in the side, the taller man rounded on him and was about to scold him when he saw the waiter pointing to the doors to the kitchen where one Head Chef was tapping a foot agitatedly against the polished wooden floor and staring at him pointedly.

"Alas my fair maidens, I have to leave your beautiful company and return to the kitchens. Farewell, and do order whatever you like, today desserts are on me." He winked at them before he turned and then walked back to the kitchen scowling at his employer as he passed him and stalked into the preparations area.

"Oi Eggplant?"

"What is it old geezer?"

"Your shift ends in an hour. And don't spend the rest of it swooning over those girls like the pervert you are-"

"I'm not a pervert!" Sanji hissed over his shoulder as he picked up a large mixing bowl and grabbed a fruit knife.

The old man merely laughed it off and walked over to the supplies cabinet. Sanji muttered under his breath about grumpy old bastards and quickly set about making the girls the desserts he had promised them. Perfection took a while and he didn't want to keep such good _customers _waiting.

Moments later Usopp came flying into the kitchen as though his rear were on fire, and it might well have been, for the expression on his face.

"What's up with you?" Sanji growled, displeased that he'd been thwarted from spending time with his favourite type of client.

"Kaya, ah, yes, I mean, er…the girls! Yes! They'd like drinks and-"

"You get drinks from the bar like a normal waiter idiot." He snapped in reply, gently peeling the Satsuma he now held delicately between slender fingers.

"I know but I thought I'd tell you that they wanted that pasta thing you do." Usopp cringed at the glare he received and scuttled out the door as quickly as he had come in.

"Pasta thing." Sanji snorted to himself. "Greatest waiter of all time? Feh, Greatest Waster of Time more like."

He barked at the other cooks who were stationary and staring at him as though he were about to do something unpleasant, probably to them and then placed his current work to one side as he got to work on his order. It wouldn't do to prove them right…again…he might develop an unsavoury reputation, even if he already had one amongst all the cooks in the Baratie he certainly didn't want future employees thinking he was an unreasonable man. After a moments thought he realised that yelling at them may not have been the best course of action if he wanted to gain a more amicable reputation. He shrugged, more important things were afoot.

The 'pasta thing', as Usopp had so crudely labelled it, was one of his favourite dishes. It was actually called Angel Hair Pasta1 with Thai spiced prawns. Being one of his most well received dishes Sanji always made sure that he was able to make it personally on the days he was working the kitchens.

So it was no surprise that he already had bowl of prawns in the main fridge, that had been there since he had finished with the list he had made that morning, marinating away for hours.

Upon pulling out the bowl of prawns and stirred them around loosely, observing how the colour of the prawns had turned a lush red with the curry paste coating. He leaned over the bowl and indulged himself in the scent of fresh seafood. The flavour had most certainly been soaked up by now, that was, if none of the other chefs had interfered with it.

He carried the bowl over to an opening on the stoves, tucking himself between Carne and a new member of their team and then grabbed one of the larger frying pans, splashing some light olive oil into pan and switching on the flames with a flick of his wrist.

"Oi Patty! Where was that plate of tomatoes I prepared earlier? And the garlic too? What happened to that? There was grated lime too." The blond looked over to his co-worker and with a scowl he had caught the older cook about to use his carefully prepared ingredients into what looked like another of his horrendous concoctions.

A closer look confirmed that the 'horrendous concoction' was in fact some form of minestrone soup. Sanji sniffed in distain and shook his head.

"Give those here. The last thing that soup needs is lime dumbass." He added as he grabbed the surrendered ingredients with a free hand and deftly tipped in the garlic.

Lowering the gas slightly he gave the pan an experimental flick and watched the garlic cloves turn a satisfying shade of pale gold. He turned up the heat high and added the chopped tomatoes and lime zest. Leaving it for only a few seconds he returned to the counter he'd been working on earlier and retrieved the lime juice he had saved and a bottle of dry white wine. Returning he poured in a liberal splash of the wine and the lime juice and stirred them in gently with a smooth caress of the spoon and then left the sauce to reduce.

In the eight minutes he had spare Sanji then returned the wine to the fridge, picked up some angel-hair pasta and a saucepan and set them on the work top opposite the cooker. He filled the saucepan partway with water before taking it over to the stove to boil and then observed the sauce with a satified smirk.

"Oooh! That smells good. One of Zeffs specials?" Patty called across the preparations area.

"Of course not crap-cook! It's mine, not that you'd be able to tell the difference, with your stunted sense of smell."

The older cook sneered and shifted his weight, flexing his arms as he did so. "Want to make something of it kid?"

Sanji looked over his shoulder and gave Patty a brief look of distaste before returning to his dish. He ignored the rants of the other man behind him as he poured in the prawns and mixed them in with the sauce and then set it on a low heat to simmer as he placed the pasta in the saucepan of boiling water. The blonde then prodded at the prawns curiously and sighed happily as the aromas filled the air.

A few minutes later the dish was done and Sanji scooped out three servings of angel-hair pasta and put them straight onto the plate at which point Carne leaned over and pointed out that they needed draining first.

"Idiot, this pasta is so fine that if you drain it normally then you end up with all the pasta stuck together."

"But it gets stuck together anyway so why serve it wet?"

"The water evaporates before it even reaches the customers!" Sanji rolled his eyes. "And no, it doesn't get stuck together because of this-" and with that Sanji deftly poured the sauce and prawns onto the girls' three portions. He sprinkled a handful of fresh coriander o the three plates and tucked the three thin slices of lime under a prawn on each. As he picked up the plates and balanced them carefully on each arm he strutted past both Patty and Carne with his head tilted arrogantly and a smirk of superiority on his lips.

Usopp dodged him as he entered the kitchen and the cook left it, making a beeline for the girls.

"Hey Sanji!" The waiter called as Sanji made his way across the room swiftly. The blonde paused and looked around in irritation.

"What?"

"They said they don't have time for the fruit salad thing," at Sanji's glare the shorter man added hastily, "but the main course is still very much appreciated!" And with that the waiter made himself scarce and Sanji glided over to the girls, absorbing their exclaimed appreciations with a cheshire-like grin and a mock-swoon.

"Sanji-kun! This is fantastic!"

"Only the best oh princess!"

"It's beautiful! Oh look at the pasta! It's darling!"

"My Lady, your admiration is praise from the heavens."

"Good food Mr.Blackleg. A little much for me-"

Sanji's face dropped, he was the picture of dejection as Nojiko tipped her head back and laughed at the blonde fondly.

"-in the pretty department, but," She lifted a prawn to her lips and chewed thoughtfully before smiling, "delicious as usual, even better I'd dare say."

And the cook promptly inflated his ego and smiled at them all.

"Miss Nojiko, you're such a tease!" He said, rubbing his neck nervously. It always worried him when his regulars gave him their criticism of his works, but he appreciated it none-the-less.

He bowed to them all politely and offered them his appreciation and apologies as he left them to return to the kitchen. As he walked in Zeff was pointing to his work area and Sanji's hackles rose immediately.

"I'm going to wash them now! Quit glaring old man, your eyebrows will burn off if you glower too much."

"Well, get washing anyway eggplant, my eyebrows're my business, and your dishes're your business!"

Sanji grumbled as he grabbed his used utensils and took them over to the sink which was full of the other cooks unwashed plates, saucepans and other unmentionables. He turned around and twitched as the other cooks smiled knowingly. If one of them went to the main sink and found it full but managed to slip his stuff in unnoticed and sneak off unseen then fair was fair; he didn't have to wash it. However, as Sanji found himself now, if he went over and was caught by more than two cooks then he had to, by default, clean everything there.

"You're all bastards! Carne! I know this burnt crap on this baking tray is your sorry attempt at macaroons!"

He was dutifully ignored by both the accused and every other cook in the kitchen. Fuming with anger he finally gave in and started scrubbing, the occassional mutter was the only interruption as he washed, cleaned and dried everything in the sink in a demonic frenzy. As he placed the dry plate on the clean stack he threw the tea-towel straight into Carne's face and stormed out of the kitchen. He vowed to himself never to be caught out like that again - even if that vow had been made and broken near on a score of times before.

He stalked into the staffroom and tugged off his apron, throwing it on the washing pile. He smirked, Usopp had all the god jobs. He left the staff room, walked out the back door and swiftly lit up a cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing out a huge cloud of smoke.

As he walked home he began to puff out more intricate shapes, varying from simple hoops to more difficult shapes, one being a school of fish which made the child at the bus-stop burst into excited chatter to his mother. The woman smiled and nodded absently until Sanji blew out a octopus that floated past them both, legs swirling and stretching out. The woman squeaked in surprise and the young boy laughed joyously. Sanji grinned and walked on.

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1This recipe is taken from Delia Smith's Summer Collection and can be located at deliasmithonline.


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